Amidst the sumptuous fare and the flicker of firelight from the hall's magnificent central hearth, the Trevelver legacy endured—a tapestry woven with ambition, intrigue, magic, and, tonight, the timeless pursuit of culinary excellence.

Jeremy leaned in, his voice low, and remarked, "Your roguish brother Gerald would no doubt be sorely disappointed to miss such culinary delights from one of the family's own ventures."

His sea-green eyes sparkled with mischief. "Though I shudder to imagine the indulgences he'd endeavour to sample if he were in residence this special time."

Sylvia chuckled, an impish light dancing in her big eyes. "Ah yes, the black sheep of the Trevelvers... Alas, the male genetic line has never been our strongest", she sighed. "Gerald's appetites acknowledge precious few boundaries."

She smiled, gesturing toward one of the buffet tables where Amanda Morgan—daring and alluring—sashayed past on Andy Tolverne's arm.

"Andy would make very short work of Gerald if he even breathed too deeply near Angela, Sylvie!"

"Indeed so, I fear, Jeremy. It's just as well then, that dear Gerald," her partner leaned in as Sylvia lowered her voice, "divides his time between 'managing'—and I use the term loosely—'The Railway Hotel', renowned for its excellent cuisine and discreet 'weekend-away' suites, and the idyllic seaside 'Rock' restaurant in Penmayne. You know, it's built precariously on a rock outcropping off the beach in Porthilly Cove, catering to the avant-garde set and managed by Gerald's long-suffering German wife, Brigita."

"Ah, yes", Jeremy smiled, "the restaurant famous for its authentic Greek cuisine, never closing, and serving alcohol at all hours during the summer season. It's his only business that can rightly be called successful!"

"Very true, darling!" smiled Sylvia.

"But let's not forget his ridiculous London exploits with his so-called gentleman's magazine, 'Avant', and his latest 'brainchild,' 'Caligula's Ass'—a five-piece band fruitlessly chasing rock visionary status", responded Jeremy.

Sylvia's eyes twinkled. "Ah, yes, Gerald fancies himself an older version of Andrew Loog Oldham, the Rolling Stones' visionary manager. But while Oldham's flamboyance is shaping the band's meteoric rise, Gerald's managerial vision, to say the least, falls rather short!"

Her fingers drifted reverently to the "Étoile Brillante" clutch; its midnight-blue velvet adorned with tiny, glimmering stars.

But that's more than enough of Gerald, darling! This evening's cosmic alignments are truly propitious", she whispered. "Fated events catalyse, unseen energies swirl, awaiting their ecstatic release." Her big, brown eyes met Jeremy's sea-green pair, and for a fleeting moment, he glimpsed the cosmic dance—the convergence of fate, desire, and secrets hidden behind the celestial silver veil.

I'll be travelling tomorrow. So, here's a bonus episode.

I'd have to go through my RCTS books, but as injectors were generally designed to operate with cold feedwater from the tanks, some classes of locos which condensed steam back into the tanks, usually because of working through tunnels, had problems with the subsequent hot water feed.

To overcome this, I think that some classes used pumps in addition to injectors, and some types of injectors were later designed to be able  use hot water feed as well as cold.

And of course, hinted at by John, as well as designs by loco engineers, there were a number of 'patent' boiler feed designs which used pumps as the water was usually hot and was a form of fuel economy.

This includes such makes as ACFI (used on some but not all B12s, the first P2, and a couple of A3s amongst others on the LNER), DABEG, etc.

Martyn

Sylvia delicately speared another forkful of the rich game pie, its savoury aroma enveloping her senses. The resplendent Great Hall buzzed with anticipation, crystal chandeliers casting a warm glow over the assembled guests. Sylvia's soul hummed in appreciation, her dark eyes alight with delight.

"Madern 'Lucky' Pennec", she murmured, her voice barely audible above the lively chatter around them. "Our renowned Breton chef, borrowed from 'The Station Hotel', has certainly graced us with exquisite seasonal flair tonight."

Jeremy, seated next to her at the long oak table, swirled his Claret—a wine that bore the red-berry flavours of ripe pinot, dolcetto, and sangiovese. Its velvety texture married perfectly with the hearty slices before them. He glanced around the room, taking in the eclectic mix of guests—the 'movers and shakers' from Britain and the Continent who revelled in this celebratory event.

"Ah, yes", Jeremy replied, leaning in. "Cant Cove's 'The Station Hotel'—another of the many business ventures under the Trevelver family's purview." His eyes lingered on Sylvia's delicate fingers, her silver bracelet catching the candlelight. "And 'Lucky' Pennec's culinary artistry is a testament to your family's commitment to excellence."

As Sylvia reached across the linen-draped surface to refill Jeremy's crystal glass, the soft lamplight played upon the elegant silver band gracing her wrist. It was no mere ornament; rather, it held secrets woven into its very essence—secrets whispered by the ancients and etched in the mystical Atlantean script.

For the bracelet bore inscriptions invisible to all but its wearer and their male partner. When Sylvia glanced down, she saw the delicate lines of Atlantean symbols shimmering faintly against the silver. These cryptic markings held promises of protection forged in a forgotten realm.

The bracelet was one of three passed down through centuries within the Trevelver family. The Dowager Lady Trevelver, the current Lady Trevelver, and her eldest daughter—the next Lady Trevelver—all had worn one. Each generation added to its story, their joys, sorrows, and triumphs etched into their silver band.

Each morning, as she fastened her bracelet's clasp, Sylvia felt the weight of tradition. It linked her to ancestors who had navigated tempests, danced at grand balls, and whispered secrets in moonlit gardens. It was a bridge between past and present, a precious link to the lineage of strong, resilient women who had stood before her.

Beyond its mystical properties, the bracelet also held sentimental value. It had witnessed stolen kisses, tearful farewells, and whispered confidences. When Sylvia wore it, she carried not only silver and Atlantean script but also the love and resilience of its previous wearers.

In that lamplit moment, as Jeremy's eyes met hers, he glimpsed the bracelet's hidden magic, sensing the weight of centuries—the silent acknowledgement of shared history. The silver bracelet was more than an accessory; it represented the Trevelver legacy, a protective charm, and timeless elegance.

As the Christmas evening continued to unfold, the clinking of silverware and the murmur of animated conversations blended seamlessly in the Great Hall—a space steeped in history and tradition. Here, more than just dancing and feasting occurred; it was a convergence of past and present, where secrets whispered in the shadows danced with the promise of the future.

Hi John,

 Wonderful posts as usual!  I confess that while I am riveted (pun intended) by the excellent and detailed information you share, My wife enjoys me prattling on about trains at night as it helps her get to sleep and the information you shared about boiler design really did the trick last night!

In all seriousness, she is in significant pain because of her CP and its honestly really helps distract her (although the number of times I've waxed lyrical about the wonders of steam over Shap, up the Lickey and and the magnificence of Ribblehead, you'd have thought she'd be bored of it by now!

I seem to recall having seen 'Hardwicke' at the railway museum when that was in Clapham

Brilliant stuff, John - thank you so much 

A Coarse Guide to the Steam Locomotive for 'N' Gauge Modellers - Part 13 - Supplemental


Hello Chums

I included a picturingham of Hardwicke's footplate in Part 13.  I though it impolite not to show the whole engine.  Here she is:





And her combined name and builder's plates - August 1873:




**

Quote from: martyn on May 31, 2024, 09:52:55 AMI don't know where I read it, and it was a very long time ago, but I'm sure that a piece I've seen said that the injector was originally designed (by Giffard) to refill boilers on a proposed airship!

But that could be a faulty memory......

]...]

Thank you, Martyn and that might well be the case.  M. Giffard built a steam-powered airship.  And... it flew (or so I understand)!

Certainly, the injector he invented in 1859 (others had a similar idea but Henri Giffard got it right) transformed steam on rails.  Sharp, Stewart & Co. obtained the patent rights for the United Kingdom in 1860 and the feedwater pump quickly became obsolescent, except when locomotive engineers experimented with pre-heated feed water.  Mr Stroudley used crosshead pumps to deal with hot feed water on the LB&SCR.  On the G&SWR, James Manson with 4-6-0 No. 129 and, less successfully, Peter Drummond with the fifteen 0-6-0 engines of the '279' class, used steam-driven pumps which removed any requirement for furious motion to replenish the water in the boiler. No. 129 also retained her two Gresham's injectors.

**

If you peer at the second well-dodgy picturingham, you might just notice the fine yellow line between the red and grey lining.  It was to do that line on an '0' gauge model that the late Bernard Millar resorted to the use of a tiger's whisker.


'N' Gauge is the Cat's Whiskers

Many thanks for looking and all best wishes.

Toodle-oo

John

Reaching across the table, he gave her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "Well then, my dearest enchantress. Let's see what destinies await all of us as this evening continues to unfurl, shall we?" There was an open curiosity in his tone, a willingness to embrace whatever unseen forces she perceived swirling about them.

Sylvia's fingers drifted reverently over her "Étoile Brillante" clutch, her eyes gaining a distant, knowing quality as she traced the twinkling stars. "This evening's celestial alignments are quite... propitious", she murmured. "Fated events have been catalysed, with unseen energies now swirling all around us, awaiting release."

Jeremy regarded her with calm understanding. As someone who first learnt of Sylvia's ancestral gifts a decade ago, he knew to receive her mystical proclamations not with scepticism but with an open, receptive spirit. "You have foreseen fateful destinies coinciding under this evening's star-spun influences, then?" he asked solemnly. "Rapturous awakenings and soul-bondings to be catalysed by forces beyond mortal ken?"

A small, secret smile graced Sylvia's lips as she held his gaze meaningfully. "Precisely, my love. Cosmic tides are shifting, their ethereal currents primed to sweep certain individuals into... entirely new realms of experience." There was a tantalising promise in her words, one that hinted at profoundly intimate transfigurations soon to unfold.

A private, knowing smile played across Sylvia's lips as she considered the implications – her words carried the weight of a descendant of the legendary Atlantean Queen Priestesses. "Oh, Eli and Giles shall undoubtedly encounter a most transcendent epiphany, of that I've no doubt. Though I also harbour greater ambitions for this night's enchantments to spark not just one, but a trinity of cosmic awakenings."

Her gaze drifted meaningfully towards Amanda and Andy, the striking couple seeming to exude an electric charge, then back to Jeremy with a look of calm certainty. "The stars and celestial talismans have aligned exquisitely, my dearest. All that remains is for fate's inexorable currents to carry their destined ones into rapture's breathless embrace."

Leaning back, Jeremy regarded his remarkable companion – this beautiful young woman whose mystical powers represented both an immense blessing and formidable burden to bear. But he knew better than to question her otherworldly perceptions. Reaching across the table, he gave Sylvia's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Then shall we not await with open wonder whatever profoundly fated events this night has yet to unveil?" His eyes shone with abiding faith and devotion. "After all, an enchantress of your ancient lineage deserves nothing less than my utmost trust in matters of the cosmic mysteries."

Sylvia's smile deepened, grateful for his steadfast support as she steered them into uncharted mystical realms. With a luminous glance towards the dance floor where Eli and Giles moved enraptured, she murmured, "The celestial tides are shifting, my love. Fated awakenings are nigh..."

Did someone mention dictionarys?